Blazing Flames
by Alaanysinwonderland
Summary: Her fire wasn't faked by Capitol magic tricks. It was real, burning bright but hiding somewhere deep in her chest. I was lucky to be able to find it. And fall in love with it.
1. The Reaping

**Disclaimer**: Even though I'd love it, I don't own the Hunger Games or any of these characters. The genius Suzanne Collins does.

**A/n: I know a lot of Gadge fictions start with the so-famous dress comment, but I really wanted to get into Gale's shoes before anything else. So I already apologize if this chapter is kind of boring! Bear with me!**

**The Reaping**

The music, the drinks, the girls, the laughter, more drinks. A completely wasted Thom at my right, slow-dancing against a wall with an unidentified long black haired girl. A furious Bristel at my left, trying her hardest to avoid gazing at this entwined and drunk couple. It was a little party held in Greasy's gloomy pub the night before the inescapable Reaping day. A simple rally for those who have taken so much _tessera_ that they stopped counting how many times their names will appear in this damn glass bowl. Of course, the only missing person was Katniss Everdeen. I quickly realized that my dear best friend prefers trees' company instead of people. She was probably in the woods with her bow in hand and arrows in her back. I should have joined her. I wouldn't feel my brain boiling and banging in my head. _Why did I take so many drinks? _

All I want is to lie here and melt in my cold, hard mattress until tomorrow morning when everything will be over. However, I get myself up, spray water over my face, and brush my teeth to hide any alcohol smell. After putting my hunting boots on, I sneak out of my house without making any sound that could wake up my family. Outside, the air still feels fresh from the night and the sun is not completely up in the sky. Unlike every Saturday mornings, I don't see a soul on my way to the fence. It's only five minutes before I crawl under the little aperture down the district gate I widened for myself last year. When I'm finally outside, I inhale deeply, and the soothing smell of pine cone and wet grass welcomes me. I walk between the tall trees that surround me until I reach the small crystal-blue river, our favorite meeting place. I sit on the ground against a big rock, and I finally let this shaking sigh I was holding.

I know I shouldn't be too nervous. After all, it's been seven fucking years. I should get used to it, right? I should get over the sick feeling of fear that overwhelms me every year at the Square. The fear of leaving my lousy district and my family for the Capitol. The fear of dying in the arena or coming out as a monster. But then, the moment another name is called out and that you're relieved to see a twelve year old brat being taken away from his mother instead of you, you soon realize that you are already one. This is how the Capitol is so good at manipulating people, turning them filthily, selfish, and insensitive. After watching the games for ten years now, I don't even blink an eye while watching a beheaded teenage girl on screen. "Fucking Capitol…," I mutter between my teeth.

"Gale…," says a deep feminine voice behind me. Her almost-inaudible steps are getting closer, and soon, her slender shape causes a shadow above me. "When are you going to stop badmouthing the Capitol?"

"Ask me this when every kid will get to sleep with a bellyful" I retort. Her disapproving tone irritates me. Why can't I badmouth the Capitol here? On the most horrible day moreover? What's the point of coming here and pretending to be free if we have to shut our mouths like inside the fences?

I'm about to reproach (as always) her blatant lack of animosity against our filthy Government when her face softens. "Here" She takes a loaf of bread from her leather bag and tosses it gently on my outstretched legs.

"Whoa! What do we have here?" I mutter playfully. I bring the loaf to my nostrils. Still warm. "How many?"

A real baker's bread that wets your appetite just by looking at it's not easy to get.

"Just a squirrel," she tells me, sitting next to me in the grass. "Old Mellark looked sentimental today. He even wished me good luck."

I see. _Pity_.

"At least he knows that none of his precious well-fed sons would ever have to leave him…"

"Can't you just _shut up_ for once and eat?"

I can help but heave an exasperated sigh. I want to shout to her that _no, _I can't just shut up and eat because I am not one hundred percent sure to do it tomorrow, while old folks chunk bread out of the window by mere pity. I don't say anything though, because Katniss hates when I rail about the Capitol, the town or the Hunger Games, and today's the Reaping day. I don't want to fight over this. I finally cut a piece of the warm bread and the moment it gets down to my mouth, I have to force myself from groaning. I may criticize the old Mellark, but his breads are always wonderfully good, and I'm starving.

"Look what Prim gave us. Lady's fresh cheese," she says while getting out the said cheese that is wrapped in a white hanky.

I smile at her but only because I know it's her way of burying the hatchet. Like me with my silences.

"Well thanks, Prim…Oh I almost forget." Then I take this horrible made-in-Capitol accent that we hear whenever Effie Trinket gets on stage. "Happy Hunger Games, dear! And may the odds…"

She gives me a very Trinket grin, showing all of her thirty–two teeth. "Be ever in your favor!"

Katniss is like me. She prefers to joke about it, rather than showing her anxiety, like everyone else does.

We eat the cheese with the bread while she tells me about her getaway in the woods last night. When there's no more trace of cheese on my fingers, I start playing with the wetted grass underneath my palms.

Katniss pushes her head backwards and closes her eyes, sighing deeply. I watch how her olive complexion seems to shine with the sun. Her thin lips are lifted up in an almost-smile that she only lets appear here, or whenever Prim's around. I can help but smile as well.

This girl is nothing normal. She's definitely not the type to wear dresses or make-up, and I don't even remember the last time I saw her shoulder length hair out of those abiding braids of hers. It's probably the reason why it took me so long to notice all those little things that make her so much interesting and desirable. Six months ago, I had never paid much attention to her precious smiles, to the way her slender body moves while tracking a prey or to her dazzling almond shaped eyes. But after the day Darius leaned his face so close to hers that I already felt my fist crushing against his nose, I realized that she wasn't just my hunting partner. She is so much more than that. She is _my_ Catnip, and no one else's. I guess I have to thank that ginger shithead, for helping me figure it out.

I don't really know what exactly I feel for her, though. Even with all my experiences with girls, I'm definitely not a feelings expert. Plus, Katniss is nothing like any of the girls I've dated. She's not really pretty. Not really charming either. But she's strong, determined and courageous. She's a survivor. And that's what makes her truly beautiful.

Everyone assume we're dating, or at _least_ that we will marry one day. And when I say everyone, I mean it: my mother, Rory, Thom, Bristel, the entire Hob, half of the school…and the list goes on. Only five years old Posy and eight years old Vick don't agree with that. According to Pose, "Katniss never plays with me! You can't marry her!" And Vick still believes that, I quote: "Girls are some boring, flowers-stinking creatures that can't even play kickball."

What is certainly certain is that there nothing romantic going on between me and her. Not that I wouldn't want it (would I?), but Katniss isn't looking forward to getting in a relationship, or having a family. And I understand her. But what if we didn't have to face the Hunger Games? What if we could be free like we are here, in the woods?

"We could make it, you know," I say softly, gazing at the distant trees in front of me. "Running away in the woods, together." I am completely aware that it's a silly idea, but I just want her to consider this possibility. The possibility that there could be another path for us than just sitting here and waiting for the annual doomsday. But then I feel her eyes on me, so I quickly add: "If there weren't the kids, of course. Just you and me…"

She mimics my posture and her frown deepens. After several minutes, she finally speaks again. Only, it is not what I was waiting for. "I'll never have kids." _There. Done._

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I don't really know what I expected from her. But I feel awfully unsatisfied. Even frustrated.

"I would want to. If I didn't live here…"

Will she bit the bait? Will she understand the insinuation? My way of asking if there is somehow a future for us aside being hunting mates?

"Well, you _do_ live here."

"Fine. Forget it."

_Better talk about romance to a brick wall._

….

"Pretty dress."

Have you ever experienced this? When you make a small comment in your head, safe from the world, but then you realize that your treacherous lips actually let it fly outside. Well, I'd never. Until today.

She's standing in her doorway, dressed in a splendid sleeveless white dress that waves around her lean legs, her hip length golden curls held back in a pink ribbon and oceanic blue narrowed eyes on me.

Thank God this almost-hateful tone never leaves my voice whenever I'm speaking to her.

"Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?"

"Huh?" Does she really think she has a single chance to be reaped? I've never seen any reaped children wearing a golden pin that could feed a family for months. "You'll never go the Capitol, Undersee! What do you have? Five entries?" Maybe less considering she's the mayor's kid. "I had six at twelve."

She pinches her full pink lips in a forced smile. "You better take a shower, then. For the cameras," she replies with a sugary tone. _Ouch! Good one, Undersee._

I hear Katniss snort at this, but the daggers I glare at her manage to quiet her down.

Undersee drops some shinny coins in Katniss' hand, and as she grabs the bag of strawberries I take a look at her fingers. Her once light pink nails are now covered with a deep varnished black that contrasts with her porcelain skin. Is this some kind of new Reaping day fashion? White dress and black nails? "I wish you good luck, Katniss."

"You too, Madge."

And she closes the door, without another glance for me.

Katniss doesn't talk on the way back home. I know she's tired of telling me to be nicer to her townie friend, because that's something I can't afford. I simply hate Madge Undersee. And who can blame me? She's the mayor daughter. She's rich, she'll never have to worry about food, she thinks she's better than me, and she basically is as she lives in a _mansion. _ In short, she's the "towniest" townie of town. And what is more infuriating with her is that I can't help but coming back every Saturday to watch her gorgeous heart shaped face and hourglass figure in those ten thousand dollars dresses that only the Mayor's brat can wear. I keep coming to see her long brown eyelashes fluttering to me for a half second and her cute shy smiles that are never directed to me.

And if the only way of keeping those damn sea blue eyes a bit longer on me is to snap nasty comments at her face, I'll take the risk. I always do.

…

"Happy Hunger Games, District 12. And may the odds be ever in your favor."

How many entries do I have again? Forty-two? Well, the odds are certainly not in my favor. What if one of them comes out of this bowl? What is going to happen to mum and the kids? _My last year_. Whatever happens today, I won't be standing here anymore. And my mother won't ever have this anxious feeling that overtakes her on Reaping days because as long as I'm living, none of the kids will ever take _tesserae_.

I turned my head to glance at Katniss. She tries to give me a reassuring smile, but I can see her lips trembling. Just like my hands. I can feel them shaking against my lap despite the bored-looking mask on my face.

"As always, ladies first." Effie Trinket walks to the glass bowl, more Capitolized than ever with her bright pink curls and apple green tailored suit. She dives her hand in with a bright smile. If you only look at her, you can easily start believing that all of this is just a draw for some exciting trip to a Caribbean island.

She walks back to the microphone with a little white paper in hand.

_Please not Catnip. Please not Catnip. Not her. Please…_

"Primrose Everdeen!"

I feel like all the air is gone from my lungs. It's not Katniss. It's ten times worse.

I see little Prim, her face as white as a sheet, walking towards the stage. How can that be possible? Which kind of fucking odds is this? One entry. One single entry among hundreds other.

I hear Katniss screaming her name. And as I was expecting …

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Prim's arms are clenched around her waist, while Katniss tries to get free from this heartbreaking grip. My feet move by themselves towards them, and I manage to take Prim off of her.

"Go ahead, Catnip." I try to control the tremors in my voice.

I bring a screaming and fussing Prim to her mum without trying to calm her because I want to do the same. I want to scream until my voice breaks and my ear-drums explode. I want to grab Katniss and take her away from this stage, Trinket and those cameras.

But I don't. I stand here. I watch as Peeta Mellark's name echoes across the square, one of the well-fed baker's sons with five entries. I don't move when they shake hands or when they're brought to the Justice Building. I don't move when the crowd dispels around me. I vaguely hear Thom's voice. I feel his arm around mine. I let him taking me to whatever places in the world, because I feel like I've fallen into another damn dimension.

**A/n: So you probably have already noticed it, but I will say it anyway. English's not my first language. I started learning it about two years ago, and writing this fiction is an exercise given by my English teacher. So I'm really sorry if this was kind of lame or cheap :S ! I'm actually searching for a Beta reader to help me! **

**I truly hope you enjoy it though.**

**Thanks for reading. **

**Alanys. **


	2. Nightmares

**Disclaimer**: One time I dreamed I was Suzanne Collins. But then I woke up….And I wasn't.

….

**The Nightmare**

**…**

"Three minutes," the Peacekeeper says before closing the door.

Three minutes? What can I possibly do in three minutes? Telling her I liked feeling her arm brushing mine during our hunting games? Telling her how I love hearing her so-rare laughter echoing in the woods? That would feel like a farewell, wouldn't it?

Before I realized I opened my arms, she's already hugging me back. I hold her tight as I inhale her sweet smell of fresh grass and pin con. I have never had her that close to me, but her body feels so familiar.

"You can do this, Catnip," I mumble in her hair. "All you need is a bow. That's your best chance."

She leans herself away from me, and I can see sadness and fear shinning in her eyes. "I can't, Gale. I can't do that."

"Of course you can." I cup her face in my hands. "You know how to shoot, how to hide, how to-".

"It's not that easy," she shakes her head. "It's not that easy."

I don't want to see her distant eyes, like she's already given up. She has to try. She has to come back.

"It's only hunting, Catnip! You're the best at it," I urge her. "You've already killed."

"Not humans!"She yells. "I won't last more than two days."

All I want right now is to put my lips on hers to silence her. _Don't act like you're already dead, Katniss_. Please. Don't do that.

I put her in my arms again, because if I don't, I might whimper like Posy does when Vick takes her rag dolls. I might burst into tears and beg the Capitol or the world to let her run away with me. "What's the difference anyway?" I say quietly in her ear. She just needs to come back to me, whatever it takes. She can't die there.

The Peacekeepers are back, too soon. But I won't leave. I can't leave her here. I can't let her go.

"One minute, please."I feel their hands on my shoulders and my arms, forcing me to get out.

"Promise you won't let them starve," she shrieks in a panicked voice.

"I promise, Catnip! You know-" But the door is already closing behind my back. I shove my arms from the Peacekeepers' grip. I have to dig my nails hard in my palms to stop myself from thinking about defiling their white uniforms with their own blood. Even if I know it would be therapeutic against the mix of anger and sadness that is overwhelming me.

As I'm thinking about getting away from here, I hear a shutting door on the opposite side of the corridor.

She's standing there, same white dress and blond wavy ponytail. No fucking Peacekeepers dragging her out of the room, which probably belongs to Mellark. And she's looking at me. Not in the smug kind of way she always uses with me. It's just her eyes, big and blue eyes on me.

I don't know what is filling them. Anger? Pity? Sympathy ? Maybe all three. I can't tell. But they are watching me with so much intensity that I can feel the small of my neck burning. However, I hold her gaze. Not because I want to. But because don't know how to look away. I don't even know how to move anymore.

It reminds me of the first time I met her. It was about two years ago. Katniss begged me to bring strawberries to the Mayor's for her because she got sick from flu and couldn't leave her bed. So I went reluctantly, first because money is money and according to her, the Mayor paid well. Second, because you cannot refuse something to a weak and quivering Katniss. Standing awkwardly on the porch, I couldn't believe I was knocking at the Mayor's mansion door, woods strawberries bag in hand. I was expecting many things from this trade, like seeing the Mayor himself or a seven feet tall housekeeper. But when the door opens, all I saw was her eyes. And for a moment, I thought I was facing the white dotted doe I saw on my first walk in the wood with my father. But it wasn't a four-legged animal, her eyes weren't black. They were blue like the sea you could see in District 4 peek on Reaping recaps. And even though she was little and too skinny at this time, even though her hair seemed to be the half of her weight, I thought it was the most beautiful creature my eyes had ever laid on. I felt like I could stand on her porch forever. That was before she glanced at the rabbit carcass hung on my belt, and her nose wrinkled . That was before she said in an angry voice after handing me some coins, "_How could you kill it? It was just a baby_." And the moment after, I hated her. Which was the easiest thing to do, really.

But I'm not on her porch. I don't have any strawberries in hand. There are no dead animals hanging on my belt.

What should I do now? Should I apologize for assaulting her about her entries earlier? Tell her that I was wrong and that even a five entries girl could end up to the Capitol at last? Is this what she's waiting for? Excuses?

I don't know how much time we stood staring at each other in the corridor, two Peacekeepers guarding the door in my back, but she finally breaks the spell she put on me and starts walking toward the exit door. I watch her as she threads before me without a glance, like she thought I somehow disappeared in the atmosphere in the second she took to blink her eyes.

I start walking behind her, and before I can stop myself I say a bit too loudly, "Undersee!" She pauses in her track, but doesn't turn_. I hate her_. "You gave her your pin," I say because it's the only thing that comes to my mind. It's not a question obviously. I saw the golden pin shinning on Katniss' chest the moment I entered the room.

She finally faces me, her weird sad and angry expression still on. "I did."

"And why the hell did you do that?" I frown.

She raises her brown eyebrow and then shrugs, "I don't know. I guess I wanted to give her something to remind her of home…"

My eyes bug. Something to remind her of home? A golden pin?

Anger's suddenly rising in me. I want to shout to her face that Katniss is not living in a mansion with housekeepers and princess dresses. Katniss's from the Seam. She's from the woods. A bark of tree or a piece of coal could remind her of home. Not a fucking golden pin that could have fed her a whole year.

She's seemingly oblivious to my hands clenching in shaking fists because she continues talking, "Something she could wear as a token to remind her that she's not one of them. To tell her to stay her herself."

The anger is gone like it never came. But the feeling that replaces it isn't better. Not to say worth.

In a few seconds, I'm out of the Justice Building, leaving the blonde by herself in the hall. I don't pay attention to her concerned voice calling me. I walk the faster I can from the Town.

_I hate her! God I hate her._

Why does she have to be so perfect? Why does she have to be better than me? Even with Katniss? I was supposed to be the one to think about that. I was supposed to be the one to think about Katniss' feelings before mine. But no, I wasn't. All I manage to tell her is to kill, to forget that others kids would actually be human so she could come back to me. What a selfish bastard.

I should have been the one to tell her not to turn in a monster like the Careers, but I didn't. And that has to be the perfectly perfect fucking Madge Undersee. The one who can throw diamonds and golden pins on the street as she wishes. She had to be the one to do the right thing of course.

I finally put a name on the unpleasant feeling that is settling down my throat. Jealousy. And shame.

My angry steps turn to furious strides as I'm heading to the woods, and after I crawl under in fences, I start running. I run between trees and shrubs, with no direction. Not caring about taking a trunk head on in my face.

I run as fast as I can. I don't mind the droplets of sweat that are blurring my vision. I don't mind the sour feeling in my limps. I don't mind my heart pounding against my chest. I just have to get away. From everything. I just want the wind that's blowing against my face to carry my thoughts and my feelings. I don't want to hear Prim's screams in my head. I don't want to see Katniss' eyes full of tears she won't let fall. I don't stop running until I stumble on a big tree root and my body meets the grass in a thud.

I lie stupidly here as my breath's trying to steady, my face buried in the grass. I hear the train rolling away. _She's gone_. For real now.

My fingers dig inside the ground. She's gone and I'll never know the feeling of her lips against mine, of her hand in mine. They took her away from me. I feel like centuries have passed since this morning, even if I know it's only hours. In few hours, they manage to turn my life into a nightmare.

All I want to do is to hit a fist in a tree trunk. Maybe it'll help me to wake up from this dream, and it's surely safer than pummeling Peacekeepers. But I can take the risk to break my hand or even one finger. I promised her. I won't let her family starve. I owe her that.

"_You know I'll do anything for you." _That's what I was aiming to tell her. And now, I'll prove her that. I'll take care of little Prim.

I roll my body in the grass to face the sky. I watch darkness fighting with the sun, creating a beautiful purple-orange color. But eventually, clouds slowly disappear and stars are soon shinning in the dark blue sky.

I close my eyes and I try to think of a world without Hunger Games, without Trinket's squeaky voice and without the Capitol. A world where I would be lying here with Catnip on my side and I would bend over her to kiss her thin lips. Where I would whisper sweet things in her ear while watching her steel eyes diving in mine.

And I fall asleep a small smile on my face, though I know the awakening will be brutal.

**…..**

**A/n: So this is my interpretation of Madge's gift. She gave her the pin so Katniss wouldn't forget where she comes from. And also because of Maysilee's history of course. Sorry you didn't think about that earlier, Gale! **

**I think Madge is a very important character in the story and I was soooo upset when I realized she wouldn't be in the movies. I think the fact that Katniss find this pin on a table in the Hob just ruins the real importance of it. (There is this funny video on YouTube showing Hitler as upset as I am about that. You guys should check it out if you felt that way too.)**

**Oh, and thank you so much for your reviews! What are your thoughts on this chapter? Looking forward to your reactions :) !**

**Alanys**


	3. Midnight Snooper

**A/n: Thanks for the reviews, guys!**

…

**Midnight Snooper**

…

People use to say that humans were made to adapt to any circumstance. That it takes some times for the brain to fit with a new situation, but eventually, a man with an amputated hand doesn't feel his missing part a day or another. Or a widow doesn't cry her departed husband a day or another. They say that humans always find a way to overcome their pains.

I hope they're right.

Because it's only been three days, but I feel like this big, unfathomable blank in my heart won't ever be filled again.

Since Katniss gone, nothing's the same anymore.

I still hunt before and after school. I still trade in the Hob. I still set snares in the morning and collect the game the evenings… But it's not the same. It could never be the same without her. Her absence is too blatant. Too painful.

And maybe, I could get use to this as time passes. Maybe. If my whole world didn't change along with. If people could stop watching me with that same pity in their eyes, or if those "Poor boy!" and "They were so close!" didn't follow me anytime I'm walking outside.

Maybe I could adapt to this situation and dispel this horrible feeling of loneliness if everyone wasn't anticipating her death. If there was any glimmer of hope for her victory, the Reaping recaps blew it away. At the second the huge District 2 tribute get on stage, morbid excitement shining in his eyes, I knew Katniss wouldn't come back. I knew I had lost my best friend. And now it's impossible for me to look at little Prim anymore. I mean, how could I meet her hopeful gaze with mine, full of hatred and sadness?

Maybe it's the reason why everyone seems to treat like I was some kind of wounded baby squirrel. Maybe it's the reason why mom insists on giving me the larger portion of stew. Why Rory, Vick and Posy don't squabble anymore. At least in front of me. Maybe it's the reason why all Hob merchants agree with any prices I offer or why Town merchants pay me a lot more than they should.

I should surely appreciate all those favors. But I don't. I hate that. I hate the whispers, the sorry eyes, the sympathetic smiles, the encouraging taps in the back…I don't need people pitying me. It only makes things worse.

My eyes scan the tables around me. Pale skins and blond hair on a side, dark hair on the other. Gossips and smile on the right. Laughs and empty stomachs on the left. And of course _she _by herself in the middle. The one who could have this entire school at her feet if she bothered looking up from her lunchbox full of mouth-watering foods I'll never taste. _What a snob_.

I never knew why she chose to sit with Katniss, among all those Town girls who keep staring at her every times she walks by. I didn't mind, because Katniss wasn't alone at least. But I do now. I really want to know why the hell is she still sitting there. This table it's the only thing that can remind me of Katniss here.

And I don't want to see the sloppy golden braid on her shoulders. I don't want to see the glitter the sun makes on her silver fork while she's playing flabbily with her foods.

_Playing with food_, I think bitterly. _Something I'll never have the chance to experience._

Her eyes are down, like the day before. And she does it so naturally that if she didn't stare at me like I was some interesting piece of wall three days ago, I would believe she's always been like that.

I know it always annoys me to look at her, but I do it anyway. For the same reason that makes me stand every Saturdays at her porch. Which annoys me even more. But I somehow like it. Mostly because it's one of the only things that relate me to my old life. Hating the Mayor's daughter. Protecting my family. Watching Thom and Bristel's daily hassles. That is what's left of the old Gale. The one who still had his Catnip.

"Hey, man! Are you listening?"

Thom's voice brings my eyes away from Undersee to settle on his face. "Uh? You were saying?"

"Small party at Leon Gate's… You up for it?" he repeats with a raised eyebrow and a one-side smile.

He's obviously trying to make me feel better, which I truly appreciate. But honestly, the last place I want to be is in the middle of drunken people. "Well…I don't really-"

"Of course he doesn't want to go. Right, Gale?" says Bristel before me, and I feel like I could kiss her right now.

Thom acts like he didn't hear her. "C'mon dude. You know Gate's parties. Always more drinks and girls. You can't miss that-"

"You know Thom, some people in this world have better things to do than drinking and snogging any living creatures with bras and skimpy skirts," she snaps before I have the chance to open my mouth. Despite all her efforts, she can't hide the anger rising in her voice.

Thom finally looks at her, jaw clenched and exasperated eyes. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"All I'm saying is that it's not because _you_ want to go that _he_ does. And I completely understand him."

"I am one hundred percent sure I was talking to Gale. And don't worry about it, Brit. I'll never invite a party pooper like you anywhere!"

Bristel's brown eyes narrow dangerously and her frown is so deep that her eyebrows can be seen despite her long black fringe. They eye each other scornfully for a moment, my eyes ping-ponging between the two. I don't try to stop them. I know at my expense that _this_ is their only way to communicate.

"Well, I'm happy you don't.'Cause I don't wanna end up kissing-, I mean _sword fighting_ with tongues like you and your stupid Belinda Noyer!"

_Belinda Noyer? _Certainly the tall brunette at Greasy's. Apparently, she does have a name. My bad.

"Oh, you can sleep well, 'cause that's never gonna happen!"

If he didn't lower his eyes to his lunchbox, he would have seen the glimpse of hurt that flashes in her eyes. He would have seen her fingers squeezing her plastic glass. But as always, he's oblivious. I don't know if he's blind or he's just an ass. Maybe both. I should probably open his stupid eyes for him to see that Bristel's falling for him since forever, but their relationship is complicated enough. There is no room for me in there.

"So you're coming or what?" he goes on, like he wasn't interrupted at all. "It'll help clearing your head off."

Clearing my head. Not thinking about Katniss. Not thinking about Prim. Seems too good to be true.

The old Gale wouldn't hesitate. The old Gale would be excited about it. And I want to be him again, don't I?

"Okay, I'll come," I finally sigh. Thom's face lights up with a bright smirk but Bristel shoots me an offended glare.

"Alright!" she grumbles before standing up and gathering her stuffs in her bag. "I hope you both enjoy your night!"

"Brit, don't-" I start, but Thom beats me.

"You can count on it," he says, without hiding his sarcasm.

After one look in his direction, she turns of her heels and storms away, her long straight hair dancing in her ponytail.

I glance at Thom, who's watching her in strange way. And as I'm about to think that this time he actually feels guilty…

"Are you gonna eat that?" he asks, pointing at my apple.

I roll my eyes, "You can have it." Well…_I guess some things will never change._

As always, the rest of the day passes slowly, and at the last ring, I head to the primary/middle school where Rory, Vick, and more recently, Prim are waiting for me. And my previous thought proves to be true as Vick jumps head-on my back, despite his hundred and forty centimeters.

"Ready?" I ask, trying my best to avoid Prim's warm smile I can't respond. Rory nods and starts walking forward me in his new "Hey-look-at-me-girls" way, but Prim doesn't move a toe. I raise an eyebrow.

"I…I have to meet my friend in Town. See you later?"

Rory's head spins abruptly. "Again? Is it that same friend from yesterday?" he asks, apparently bewildered.

I'm not really surprised though. I mean, aside her simple-looking clothes, her sandy blond hair and white skin can easily blend in the mass in Town.

"Yeah. She's probably waiting for me. Bye guys! "She offers us a small hand wave and scampers to the opposite direction.

…

I can't decide if I'm happy or not to be here. The music and chats stop me from thinking about Katniss or the Games. Actually, they stop me from thinking about anything. Which is a good thing, I suppose. But I feel like every living piece of me is gone, drowning somewhere in the shots I drank tonight. I hear Thom's jokes, but I can't laugh. I feel Narah's lips kissing my neck, but I don't react. It's a strange feeling, really. I feel completely wasted, but I know I'm not. I'm just…empty. Completely empty.

I decide to go outside and breathe some fresh air. Narah insists to come with me but I refuse. And I don't care if she's the prettiest girl of the Seam and if she looks offended. All I want is fresh air. With me and myself.

I walk in the dark and I curse the Town because if they didn't take all this damn electricity, I would at least see where to put my feet.

The reasons I'm here seem futile right now. What's the point of forgetting my problems, if they're coming back tomorrow? A big fat hangover bonus.

"Catnip's going to die in those fucking games," I mutter, thrusting my hands in my pockets."She's going to die and all I can do about it is to pray that she doesn't get killed by one of those fucking Careers…." Prim doesn't deserve to see that…And I don't either.

The image of this blond girl flashes in my mind. Her white face and empty eyes with blood streaming out of her neck. Just few inches from the rest of her body. Who deserve to see that?

I stop my pace and lean my back against a ramshackle wall. I let out a deep sigh. There. A fucking summary for my fucking problems. Said out loud, they don't seem so bad.

I look up to see the million stars above me, before something catches my attention. Or _someone_. Someone with a long blond braid and a school uniform. Someone who should be sleeping in her warm and soft princess bed.

_Jeez! _I must be completely wasted after all. Or else, what could possibly explain _that_? _Undersee _walking in the_ Seam? At midnight?_

She's too far to see me, but close enough for me to see nervousness distorting her features. Her fingers are clenching on the messenger bag strap dangled on her shoulder. She looks frantically around her before taking the dusty road on her left.

_Heh! Afraid of scummy Seam, Princess?_

I stand still a few minutes, watching her silhouette walking hastily away and I surprise myself when my legs start moving after her.

I keep a leisurely pace, making my steps quieter than ever, even though she's many meters ahead by now. I don't want her to see me following. I just want to make sure she gets home safe and sound. These streets are pretty dangerous at this time, and especially for her. Not that I care! Really, I couldn't care less about her. But we're already lacking in electricity here…what would the Mayor do to the Seam if his precious little daughter was attacked? Water cuts? You can't be too careful.

I keep my eyes on the fair strands that escaped from her braid, jumping up and down at the fast rhythm of her white legs. Only the sound of her shoe soles echo across the deserted street. She's patently eager to get out of here. And the wish's the mutual.

But then they suddenly stop. She doesn't move anymore. _Oh crap_! I think as my body freezes. My left feet hang inches above the ground, but I don't dare put it down. By the time I realize I'm holding my breath, the sound of her steps resonate again, only quicker. At the distance, I can see the small streetlights lighting the Square. But instead of walking ahead, she turns in a dark driveway on her right, and disappears from my sight.

I frown. Isn't she going home?

Curiosity's taking over me. What the hell is she doing here, really? As I head faster after her, images swirl across my mind: Undersee smooching a guy, Undersee with a bottle of alcohol… Anything that could explain why she's here and not coiled up in her bed.

But as I'm about to turn to the aisle…_PAF_!

Before I've got any time to react, a swift blue wind flashes in front of me out of the dark and hits me hard on the face with so much strength that I fall heavily on my back.

"OUCH !"

I feel like taking a steel stick right on the center of my face. My fingers instantly cup my sour nose. A hot, metal taste tickles down my mouth.

"Gale?" gasps a voice I know too well. She steps out of her stash, dropping her blue bag limply on the ground. "Oh God! I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't know it was you…"

It takes me few seconds and blinks to dissipate the fog that crept through my brain. But when I see her concerned-looking face with above me, everything gets clear.

She punched me. Madge fucking Undersee made me fall on the ground with a blood-sputtering nose. And if my ass wasn't sprawl on the dirty ground, I would have sneer at her bulging eyes.

I fight the urge to puke. And that has nothing to do with alcohol.

"You ok?" she asks me. The genuine worry in her voice feels like daggers in my ears.

How did she even hear me?

She outstretches her hand down to me, but I regally ignore it, and use my free hand (the one that's not drowning in blood) to get off the ground. It's humiliating enough to be hit by a girl. By _her_, especially. I don't want to lose the small pride that's left in me.

When I'm on my feet, I feel instantly better. Without any marble steps underneath her like every Saturdays, I'm literally towering her by a good foot. _What a dwarf._ "What is wrong with you?" I snap, anger, and annoyance and humiliation all shouting out of me like a single man.

"I didn't know it was you. I was scared and…"

"And you figure it'd be a better idea to knock me with your bag than just to turn around?" I groan. I can't even imagine Rory's, or worse, Thom's reaction if he knew about that.

At least she has the decency to lower her eyes. And at this very moment, I want to pluck out every of her long eyelashes, and watch her cringe in pain like she made me. "Look, I'm sorry okay?" she speaks again, while handing me a white silky handkerchief she took from her shirt pocket. And when she realizes I don't move, she sighs. "Just take it Gale. It won't bite you."

I look down at the small hanky, so white that it's almost shining in the dark. I don't want to take it. I don't want to smear it with my Seam scummy blood. "Well I might beware anything coming from you, since what just happened," I reply and I grab it grudgingly, because I'm not a fan of blood taste or smell. As I pat it under my nose, a sweet vanilla smell welcomes me. The kind of smell that makes a tug in the pit of your stomach. Of _my_ stomach.

After wiping the blood off my face and my hand, I hold awkwardly her handkerchief. I have not a slight idea of what to do now. Should I give it back to her or take it? Or maybe wash it before? I mean it's not like I've ever experienced that.

Like if she can read my mind, "You can keep it." Her tone is light, almost teasing. I stuff it in my back pocket with a scowl. "Gale, I swear that if I knew it was you, I wouldn't have…" She suddenly squints suspiciously her eyes at me. "Wait…Were you _following_ me?"

And she says it as she couldn't believe it. I can't believe it myself either.

"Um-" What am I supposed to respond now? _'I just wanted to make sure you were safe'?_ Ugh. Might as well pluck out my tooth. My virility is already down in my shoes. No need to push it further. "Well…What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

She blinks her eyes, mildly surprised by my changing demeanor. But eventually, she takes her usual smug attitude and crosses her arms against her chest "Haven't I the right to go wherever I want to?"

I stifle a laugh. '_Wherever I want to?'_ Does she really think I'm going to believe she wants to be here after seeing her walking like hundreds of wild dogs were after her?

I mimic her posture and raised an eyebrow. "I think it would be fair enough to give me an explanation after assaulting me like that."

She rolls her eyes, but after few seconds, she gives in. "I walked Prim home and I stayed there for dinner. We didn't see time pass and…"

"Wait… Prim?" I blink.

"Katniss' sister."

_No, really?_ "Of course I know that."

"Why do you ask, then?" she huffs impatiently. It's my turn to roll my eyes.

So _she_ was Prim's friend? _Undersee_? It's almost funny, thinking about Rory's amazement while watching Prim heading to the Town. His eyes would have burst out of his head if he had knew she was heading to nothing more than the Mayor's house. "What can you two possibly do together?"

My mocking tone seems to rile her. She furrows her eyebrows and lifts her head up. "Let me tell you that we had a lot of fun! Prim's really sweet and interesting…"

"I actually meant, how could she bare spending more than few seconds with such a tight-ass?"

Her nose wrinkles as she glares up at me. "I won't even bother arguing with you, Gale."

"Who said it was an argument? I'm just being curious, that's all," I snicker. God, I love this feeling. I love seeing her angry eyes on me. It's almost therapeutic.

I wait patiently for her retort, because she always has one. And I always have one back.

When she opens her mouth again, my tongue is already forming my next words, but what comes next is not what I expected:

"I just wanted to take her mind off, until Katniss comes back. That's all. And you…"

I see her mouth moving but I don't listen anymore. I must I've misheard that. Did she just say _until Katniss comes back? _

"You don't think Katniss's coming back, do you?" The question's getting out of my mouth in a rushed mutter, cutting her off.

She frowns and looks at me in a funny way. "Of course she's coming back," she says, like it was the stupidest question ever. Maybe it's the look on my face that betrays me when her blue eyes bore intensely in mine. "You believe it too, right?" I don't respond, and despite all my will, I can't look away from them. "Right?" she presses me.

No. I don't believe it. The truth is that I'm dreading the moment she'll get herself killed. I don't want her to suffer when this moment comes.

However, something inside tells me that responding negatively wouldn't be a good idea. "Nobody believes it," I mumble before realizing how pitiful it sounds.

"Well,_ I_ do. And Prim does too," she nearly shouts in my face. "And I thought _you_ would be the one you believe it more than anyone else. It's only three days Gale… and you are already giving up…" She shakes her head, like she's suddenly seeing the real me. Like I was the biggest mistake of the world.

I feel anger clenching my stomach. Who does she think she is to look at me like that? She doesn't know anything about life or death or even reality. She lives in this cute candy world full of strawberries and white dresses and silky handkerchiefs. But this is the real world. And there's nothing pink or happy out here.

"Well, I'm just being realistic," I shoot back, almost like a groan. "You saw her opponents. Those Careers could break her neck with one finger if they wanted to." This only thought triggers cold chills down my spine.

"Gale," she whispers, harsh and angrily,"They're all well-fed killing machines, I admit. But this is not a strength fight. They're called Hunger Games. _Hunger_ .Games. And those kids never had to face it. _Katniss_ did. She knows how to hunt. And she's fast and clever. She has lots of knowledge on wildlife. That makes all the difference!"

She says all this without a break. Her worlds swirl in my ears before sinking in my brain. _How does she know all those things about Catnip?_

I look at the petite girl in front of me. Cheeks flushed and fists clenched. And if I didn't feel alcohol flowing through my veins, I could have sworn red shadows danced her eyes for a quick second.

I should be speaking again. But all I'm capable of right now is to wonder if some people are born with a special ability to say exactly what others need to hear.

How could I doubt her chances of winning? And how could have even tried to drive her out of my mind? Katniss is part of me. I should have been rooting for her instead of listening to others.

I've apparently been quiet for too long and before I have the time to open my mouth, she bends down and grabs her bag from the ground. "You should put some ice on it," she advises me, indicating my nose with her head. And she takes off down the road toward the streetlights.

I watch her walking, her blond strands glowing like they attracted all of the moonlight on her. Even her hair seems to worth a lot more than anything I will ever possess.

My body feels lighter. Like I had carried a heavy weight all these days and it has just been burnt away. I feel like I can bring real fresh air to my lungs. I feel like breathing again.

Maybe my mom is right that cursing angered God. This is probably the reason why I happened to be here instead of in my bed. And why her words didn't come from mum or Thom.

No. It had to be her to do it in less than five minutes. Proving again how better she is than me, right after smashing up my nose and my pride away.

And I know a whole century wouldn't be enough for me to adapt to this only thought

…..


	4. The Goat Whisperer

_**AN: And 3 months after (probably more), she came with the fourth chapter. Her excuses? Loss of inspiration, too much work at school, piles of books to read (for school again), broken laptop and, a lot of that yes, laziness. I hope some of you still remember my story, though. **_

* * *

**The Goat Whisperer**

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here?"

It's not a shout. It's a lot quieter. But the deep anger behind his words is enough to quell everyone in the room.

Father always says that when all the noise is gone, we can hear the wisdom of silence.

I think he refers to the pleasant silence of Sunday mornings when he has time to lose himself in his old books about ancient Panem, but certainly not the heavy kind of silence that follows such inconvenient comments. The kind that falls with an embarrassing swiftness and makes you wonder if you've been imagining the laughter and chats through the wall just a minute before.

If I can get any wiser about this situation, I know that clearly I shouldn't be here. They all think so. They're all wondering the same as him; maybe a bit less harshly, but they are thinking the same thing, nonetheless. I can see it in their eyes.

My cheeks turn red. His words wouldn't make me feel uncomfortable if we were in the darkness of a deserted street like yesterday, and not at the **Everdeen's**, which is crowded with at _least_ twice a dozen strangers.

I take a deep breath and lift my head up, looking directly into his eyes. "I was invited," I say with all the politeness I manage to gather, though I have to grit my teeth to stop me from snapping something back at his face. Like Grandma always used to tell me, 'A lady can throw a bomb, but only if the victim's the only witness.' "Just like you."

"By me," Prim adds, with venom I didn't know her sweet voice could ever produce. I hear the door closing behind me and in less than a half second, she's standing in front of me, almost protectively. "I hope you don't have any problem with that, Gale."

He stays still with his eyes on me, then on Prim. After what seems like a century, though it can't be longer than few seconds, he simply shrugs. "I was surprised. That's all."

And he turns back to the man he was talking to, taking the attention of everyone else away from me and back to their own conversations. The room feels like finally breathing freely again.

Prim spins on her feet, guilt brimming in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Madge. I should have said that you would come over…" _That would have helped, indeed._

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it."

"I don't know what's gotten into Gale, really. That was… rude." _That was predictable_.

"He must be a little nervous about tonight," she muses, while walking to a small table placed against a wall.

I take a quick glance at Gale, whose back is still in my direction, like I had never existed. "Probably," I mumble. But it's clear that this has nothing to do with nerves.

To be honest, I had already prepared myself for this kind of scenario. What I wasn't expecting was the number of spectators. I should've known when Prim said there were only going to be her closest friends. Everybody loves Prim. I'm sure that if this house allowed it, I would be facing half of the district right know.

I let myself have a large peek of the room. Some kids sitting on the floor. Older people sitting on some chairs. Men and women divided into small groups across the room. I catch some glances in my direction.

"Here." She hands me an aluminum glass full of a liquid I don't recognize.

"Thanks." I'm not really thirsty, but at least I can use my hands for something else than playing with my dress. "What about you? Are you nervous?"

She sighs and looks down at her feet, her two braided pigtails falling over her narrow shoulders. "I just don't want to see my sister naked on national television."

That gets me to smile. "Dad told me District 12 had younger stylists this year. I think she'll be spared from coal dust outfits tonight. It's going to be fine," I try to reassure her, though the idea of Peeta and Katniss in Adam and Eve-themed outfits has crossed my mind as well.

"I hope so…"

"Hello, Madge," says a woman, from behind Prim. She grins at me with her usual vague smile.

Maybe it's because of her misty eyes or the way every of her motion seems to be a burden, but there's something in Mrs. Everdeen that reminds me of Mother.

"Hi, Mrs. Everdeen," I greet back. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Oh," she waves off, "that was the least we could do to return your precious help."

I don't really think that doing the dishes twice after dinner or walking Prim home is precious help at all, but I offer her a smile.

"Sweetie, I think Lady's getting hungry. We can literally hear her banging on the walls," she says to Prim in a kind voice.

Prim lets out a little laugh and starts striding to the door. "I'll be right back, Madge." _Nonono. Don't go. Don't leave me here, Prim_. But she's already closing the door behind her.

When I turn my head back to Mrs. Everdeen, she's not alone. Another woman with the usual black hair and dark skin tone of the Seam is grinning at me with her hand outstretched. I take it.

"I'm Hazelle," she says. Her sweet and clear voice is the total opposite of her hands. They feel rugged and weathered in mine. She freezes for a slight moment, gazing at my black painted nails. I wait for a small comment on them, but her eyes quickly shift back to my face. "I'm sorry about my son's behavior. I don't know what's gotten into him."

Am I the only one to be aware that _this_ was a completely normal behavior for Gale? Or maybe, it's just…Wait. Did she say _my son_?

I take a better look at her face. I can see the resemblance. They have the same high cheekbones and thin lips, though they look much better with the corners turned upwards like hers. Her eyes are bright and lively, like she's seen everything in the world, but still willing to see more. Another important thing to note: no frown.

"Oh…um…" It's stupid to be so surprised, but in my head, my only image of Gale's mother was of a tall and lean woman, with thick eyebrows perfect for scowling. Basically, she was an older, female Gale who despised Mayor's daughters as well. Not someone who actually _apologizes_ to them. "I-it's fine."

"No, it's not! I thought I did a good job with him…"

"Oh, please, Hazelle. He's just apprehensive about tonight, that's all," Mrs. Everdeen says with a comforting hand on Hazelle's shoulder.

Hazelle is about to reply but a loud scratchy voice stops her.

"Evelyn!"

It's an old woman sitting at the very back of the room. "Where are those coniferous leaves you were talking about yesterday?"

Mrs. Everdeen smiles at her and excuses herself before walking in her direction.

Leaving me alone. Facing Gale Hawthorne's mother.

My eyes fall immediately on the small glass in my hands. I bring the glass to my nose. The smell of mint and pepper flows that flows up my nostrils is so heavy that I can't stop my nose from wrinkling.

Her little chuckle gets me to look up. "This is not the tastiest drink the Seam can offer, I have to admit."

I should probably nod politely and turn around in the most respectful way. It's not that I feel uncomfortable but... Well, alright, maybe a little. I mean, what am I supposed to say to the progenitor of the person who hates me the most? _Hello! How's your son since I swung my bag into his face?_

"You should put it down. It might be a little too strong for you."

Somehow, this simple advice makes me want to do just the opposite. I take another look at the drink. Prim gave it to me, didn't she? She obviously didn't think this would be too much for me.

It's a weird feeling. But right now, I just want to prove to Hazelle, and Gale, and everybody else in this room that I can fit in here. That a girl from town can have a drink from Seam.

So I do. I give it a try…And regret it the second this liquid turns my throat to fire.

My eyes are instantly filled with tears as I let out hysterical coughs. It feels like little creatures are trying to reduce my insides to ashes.

Hazelle reaches quickly for a white glass on the tables and puts it in my hands, right after taking the grey one from me.

I don't hesitate. I gulp the entire beverage in few swallows. Thank God. Water. The burning feeling subsides.

"Thank you," I breathe with a small voice. My hand lies on my panting chest while I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. _Did Prim attempt to kill me?_

What I hear next is not expected. Another chuckle.

"How lucky you only had a sip of it. I had a mouthful the first time I tried it. You can imagine."

My eyes fly back to her. Her face is lit up by her twinkling eyes, like they were displaying pictures of this memory. The laugh I let out is real.

"But you'll get used to it," she says.

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere near this stuff ever again," I blurt out before I can stop myself.

She smiles at me again. And I return it. It's almost impossible to feel uneasy around her pleasant aura. How could such a friendly woman have made someone like Gale Hawthorne?

Maybe dogs can really make cats after all…

"I didn't know you were friends with Katniss," she goes on with a soft timbre.

"We used to sit together at lunchtime." I shrug like it wasn't a big deal. Because it's not, for most people, at least. And maybe it didn't even matter to Katniss either.

I remember her startled face at the Justice Building. She wasn't expecting me at all. And somewhat, that night I kept wondering that maybe, we had never been real friends. Maybe we were just two girls who prefer quietness and ended up sitting together. How could she be friends with the Mayor's daughter, the person her best friend despises so much, anyway?

I push all those thoughts to the back of my mind, knowing they'll come back in the dark of my bedroom later.

Hazelle must be sensing something, as she adds, "Well, Prim seems to really appreciate you."

That heartens me a little. I'd been delightedly surprised to find her standing in my living room the day after Katniss left. I had told her in the Justice Building to come over whenever she wanted to, but I didn't really count on it. But there she was the next morning, looking at my huge piano in total awe.

I'm about to talk again when a small girl–not taller than my waist– appears from nowhere and toddles towards Hazelle.

"Mommy," she whimpers, tears at the rims of her wide grey eyes. "Is Lady going to eat me?"

I guess this is his sister now. Hazelle's eyebrows knit together as she lowers her hand to the little girl's black hair. "Of course not, Posy! Lady's a goat."

"But last time Vick said goats love eating girls with black hair. He said she was going to eat me if I went near her."

Hazelle rolls her eyes. "Where is he?"

"They all went with Prim!" And her tears finally fall on her little cheeks. "And I can't go because Lady's going to eat me!" she snivels. "I don't want her to eat me, Mom!"

"Then what about you stay with me instead?" Hazelle suggests, her fingers combing through the girl's hair while the latter pulls on her skirt.

"But I wanna play too!" she whines, which causes Hazelle to sigh.

This interaction sends my mind wandering back to my own childhood. She makes me think of myself when I was younger, when I was running to Father's office during big storms. He used to calm me down only by giving me a 'magic pen' or a small stamp that he said would protect me from anything. I had always been fascinated by his steady voice when he explained to me why storms made that much noise or why the sky looked so dark from my window.

I don't know much about kids, but maybe I could try something to help Hazelle. After all, she saved me from burning asphyxiation earlier.

"Um…Posy?" I say cautiously. "Is that your name?"

Her big pupils dart up to me, like she's just noticed me. She gives me a small nod.

"You know," I start with the same soft tone Father used for me, "Lady's a goat, so basically she's an herbivore. Which means that her kind's only adapted to eating plants or vegetables. So, there's not a single way she could eat you even if she wanted to, which I'm pretty sure she doesn't."

There is a long, uncomfortable pause after that. Posy looks at me like my head was blurred by a cloud with dancing angels on the top.

Well, what worked for me doesn't for her…

"Who are you?" she suddenly asks with her eyebrows deeply furrowed together. If she didn't have that squeaky little voice, I could have thought I was facing a dwarf version of her brother.

"Posy!" Hazelle chides her. "Be nice."

She's still staring at me, waiting patiently for my answer.

"I'm Madge…" And somehow I feel the need to add, "I'm Prim's friend."

Her eyes stay glued to my face, like she was internally debating whether to be nice to me or not.

I try to smile at her, to look friendlier. One Hawthorne disliking me is enough.

"I like your hair."

I blink my eyes at this suddenly changing demeanor. Then the frown fades away.

_Whew_.

"I like your hair too," I respond looking back at Hazelle, who just shrugs, as if to say 'She's always been like that.'

"I wish I had your hair, so Lady wouldn't want to eat me."

"Maybe Madge could take you to Lady," Hazelle looks up expectantly. "She knows a lot about goats. Right, Madge?"

"Well…" _No, I don't!_ "Yes… I do."

It's probably due to her slumped shoulders or maybe the way her eyes are begging for better reasons to follow me, but my next words are uncalculated.

"Actually, I can even talk to goats!"

Her reaction is spontaneous. Her eyes grow wider, while Hazelle lets out a light giggle behind her hand.

"Really?" she asks, completely mesmerized. "You could ask her not to eat me, then?"

Turn your tongue three times before talking, people often say. I now understand why.

"Yeah… I-I could do that." Then of course my eyes start blinking frantically as they always whenever my mouth runs on and I end up lying.

I hate lying. Mostly because it's so easy to tell when I do it. And this is honestly the stupidest lie I've ever told, but if it can bring out this wide smile on her cute round face, I would volunteer to tell it again.

"Ready?"

Her short hair dances around her cheeks when she nods energetically. I stretch my hand out to her and she grabs it with her tiny fingers.

This is the moment I choose to peek in his direction. And of course, the guy from earlier is gone. It's just him, looking at me. Oh, did I say looking? I meant shooting daggers in my direction. I wonder for how long he's been watching me. I decide to ignore him and I divert my eyes to Hazelle, who's mouthing a "Thank you" that I respond to with a smile. I can feel his stare getting more and more intense on the back of my head until the door is closed behind us.

The sunlight is almost fading outside. Darkness threatens to fall on us at any moment.

We head to the back of the house, where Lady's kept in a little enclosure. At each step that brings us closer to it, her hand clenches mine a little tighter.

"You alright?" I ask to make conversation.

"As long as you're with me," she simply answers and looks ahead again.

My pace slows a little, while her words set something beautiful in me. I know she's just a kid. I know she doesn't really mean this. I know I've only known her since five minutes. But I can't stop myself from feeling special.

_She needs me_. She just needs me right here, right now, next to her. Funny how in sixteen years, I've never really felt that way. With Father working or locked away in his office, Mother constantly agonizing in her bed, and Carmen in the kitchen, I sometimes wonder if someone would notice if I suddenly vanished from earth. Probably a week or so after.

Some bleats pull me out of my dull life analysis.

We can see them now. Prim's blond braids shining under the sun between two boys. The shorter of them with long curly hair falling on the back of his neck is feeding Lady with what seems to be bucket of straws. The other is saying something funny to Prim, who bursts out laughing.

The closer we get to them, the more I see his striking resemblance with Mr. Scowl, except for his wide smile that can nearly reach his ears. That smile lessens a bit when his eyes land on us, unlike Prim's. I guess I found the one called Vick.

"Posy! Madge!" She opens the rustic wooden door of the enclosure Katniss made for Lady. "What are you doing here?" she asks when we get in the gated area.

"She wanted to see Lady!" I feel Posy's hand gripping the back of my dress.

"Really? I always thought she was scared of her…"

"That's because of a stupid joke her brother made to her!" I turn to Mini Gale with a frown. "You know, Vick, scaring your sister like that is not funny at all!"

He raises one of his eyebrows and then smiles. "Heard it, Vick?" he says, looking at some point above my shoulder.

I stare blankly at him in confusion, before realizing my mistake when the shorter boy behind me speaks out.

"It was just a joke! I didn't think she would take it so seriously!"

So apparently, _this _one is Vick … Is there another Hawthorne I'll get to meet today?

Prim bends down to Posy's level. "Posy, Lady's really nice! She won't hurt you, I promise!"

Her grip on my dress lessens a little. "Can you go talk to her first, Madge?"

"Talk to who?" asks Vick, whose shirt is now sniffed eagerly by the goat.

"To Ms. Lady! Madge can talk with goats!" she tells with so much hope and assurance that I could believe it myself.

Vick arched up his eyebrows to me as to ask for a proper explanation, which I don't give (mostly because he's the first reason I came to this muddy dung-smelling area).

I walk over the little dirty white ruminant and kneel down to her level. I'm too preoccupied with how to act this out that I don't see it coming: her long and dark tongue licking my nose, then my cheek and down to my chin.

This gets Vick to laugh, along with Prim and the unknown Hawthorne behind me.

"Hello, Lady! Feeling a little affectionate today, huh?" I say, putting both of my hands around her neck to stop her from wetting my whole face. I even catch a shy smirk from Posy. But the worried glint still teeming in her eyes reminds me that my mission's not over.

"Tell me, Lady," I go on, repeating internally that this is not the stupidest conversation I've ever engaged. "Do you see this cute little girl in a pretty blue dress over there?" I indicate with my head.

Strangely, or miraculously, Lady chooses this moment to bleat, like she actually understood me. "Could you really eat her?" And she bleats again. Maybe I can really talk to goats and just never noticed, due to the absence of said animal at home.

If there is a tiny possibility that Lady understands me, there's no possible way I can decipher something from her noises. So I act it out by making agreement sounds and nods while she makes what seems like a five minute lecture. Hopefully, this little sketch intrigues Posy, who stares at me apprehensively when I get back to my feet.

"What did she say?"

"She said she wanted to be friends with you. Come here."

She's hesitant at first, but when her brother rises up an inviting hand, she slowly toddles towards us.

"H-hi, Ms. Lady," she mumbles with a shaky voice.

Lady doesn't hesitate to lick Posy's forehead, which provokes a squeal from her, but follows up with amused little laughs. Almost immediately after this, her tiny hands lean up to cuddle the top of her head.

And that's the beginning of a friendship.

I smile at the picture I incited, proud of my unknown skills. I don't feel like doing it every day though.

"Goat whisperer, huh?" says a voice behind me. I turn around to find mini Gale, eyebrows raised.

"That was the best I could come up with," I protest.

By his face, you can guess that he's the same age as Prim, but my eyes are on the same level of his skinny neck. Everything, from his deep-set eyes and messy black hair, seems to be borrowed from his older brother.

"Pretty original. Now if you could help with the evil dwarves in the cupboards and the snake-salamanders under her bed…"

I must look funny with my face smirking and frowning at the same time.

"Yeah, Vick is a great story teller… I'm Rory by the way." He extends his hand to me in a very shaky handshake. I mean, they are supposed to be _shaky_, but not _trembling_.

"I'm Madge-"

"I know who you are," he exclaims immediately.

_Oh right. I'm the district's favorite spoiled brat after all. _

If my thoughts show on my face, he clearly doesn't notice it and keeps on rambling without thinking. "Everyone knows you. I mean who doesn't, really? You're like the prettiest girl of Twelve, or maybe Panem. Who knows?"

I stare at him, totally surprised at his directness. "Uhh…"

I've always had an aversion towards this word. Towards _all_ those words. Pretty. Beautiful. Lovely. These are basically the only words people choose to describe me with. _Pretty_. Like I was nothing more than a stupid doll standing in a crystal-clean dress. Who cares about my scores at school or that I can finally play a perfect Rachmaninov with my eyes closed? As long as I can smile and nod and be _pretty_, none of this matters.

But when the comment's coming from a cute twelve-year-old boy twisting his fingers nervously, cheeks redden, you can't really be mad about it, can you?

"Well, thank you, Rory."

Prim bursts out laughing, "Don't mind him, Madge. He's just discovered that girls could be more than boogers' bull's eyes…"

I can't help but snorting at this.

"Shut up Prim!" He snaps at her.

"Is it me, or are you really blushing?" she teases him further.

Blushing is a feeble word to describe what is happening to his face.

"You mean like you did when I caught you writing that letter to Darius?"

Prim's giggles die in her throat. If Rory's cheeks were flushed from blood before, Prim's face is filled with hot fuming lava now.

Wait…_Darius_? Like in Darius the_ Peacekeeper_?

She shoots him a keen gaze, clearly warning him to stop talking. But keeping quiet doesn't seem to be his forte.

"Oh Darius," he gushes with a ridiculous squeaky voice, batting his lashes and cupping his face with his hands, "I love looking at the burningly bright color of your hair…" I bite my trembling lip, refusing to free the laughter that has already reached my eyes.

"…and the emerald sparkle in your eyes. If only I could…"

I know the second Prim bends down to grab a handful of dirt that I should slither out of the danger zone. I'm not fast enough, but Rory is. He moves quickly behind the only thing that can shelter him away from her reach; that is, my body. The projectile lends directly on my chest.

Prim's hands clap over her mouth. "Oh my God! Madge, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to… your dress…" She apologizes, horrified.

I wave her off with a light giggle. "Take a breath, Prim! It's fine." I go to clean off the stain when I feel another wet substance hitting the back of my shoulder.

With a scandalized look, my mouth hanging open, I watch Rory shrugging innocently, a big mischievous smile plastered on his face. "I thought I could even it out. Sorry."

_Oh yeah, you can be sorry_, I think as I dive swiftly down and grab a handful myself. But he obviously grasps my intentions and is already jumping up, ready to duck out at any moment. Prim takes those precious minutes of inattention to throw another sand ball at him. And thankfully, she aims well this time.

"This one's for your inability to close your mouth when needed," she chides him, which gives me enough time to divert my dirt bomb right on her belly.

"And _this_ is for your obvious inability to distinguish your targets…"

With a gasp of surprise, she shoots me an offended yet amused glare. I shoot the same at Rory, who shoots the same back at Prim.

Whether we call for a truce and pretend that none of this happened, or…

We all bend down at the same moment… And that's how I got into my first mud fight. Rory hits me in the back and I hit him on the chest, while Prim hits him right on the head. We're soon joined by Vick, who turns out to be a skillful ball thrower. Posy and Lady stay glued together while we're getting filthier and filthier every second. I'm laughing so hard it's hurting my ribs. The battle lasts for what feels like a century.

And while receiving a big mud ball from Vick in my hair, I realize how rare (not to say nonexistent) these kind of moments are in my life. And I wish I could stay here forever. Just running and staining my dress a little more.

But everything on earth must come to an end.

"What is happening here?" chuckles a voice somewhere in my back.

We all stop as one same sore, panting body. My four limbs feel heavy and aching from all this running and throwing. I whip around and find Gale standing behind the small wooden door, or at least what is a very good copy of him, because the boy over there is actually _smiling_. Oh I had seen him smiling many times at lunch, when I let my eyes wander on other people's lives. But a shadow of disapproval always lingered on his face. This one is genuinely smiling like the sun is right above his head. I can hear the girls from school giggling at this (I must admit) pleasant picture in my head.

The dirt I held tight falls out of my hand as I relax my fingers.

"Gaaaale!" Posy screeches when he gets in the enclosure. Instead of crushing on his legs like I predict, she lets him lift her up in a swift, agile motion. This is a usual thing for him to do, from what I see.

"Gale, you know what?" She doesn't even give him the chance to guess and goes on with a gleeful tone, "I made friends with Lady today! And I made friends with Madge too!"

Gale doesn't look in my direction as I expect him to. His eyebrows arch up in a faked surprised expression. "Did you?"

"YES! She's beautiful and has sunshine hair, like Prim!"

And she wishes you could understand from the scene he made earlier that my 'sunshine' hair is the least of his concern.

Gale gives Posy a kiss on the temple before putting her down, on her feet. "You should go back inside, kids. It's getting dark out here."

My three war adversaries pat on their clothes to camouflage the damage a little and stride outside the gates.

"You coming, Madge?" asks Rory when he notices my statue-like state, the fun we've just shared still remaining on his features.

Maybe it's because of the hard look in Gale's eyes when they finally flutter to me. Or the way his body somehow got in the way after the four kids exited. Maybe it's just intuition, but I sense he wants me to stay here.

"Yes… In a minute."

"Gale?" asks Vick.

"Go ahead. I'll catch up."

If they're sensing something, none of them comments. I get an anxious look from Prim, and Rory gives Gale a suspicious glare.

So they walk away, talking about the best parts of our little fight and, of course, Posy keeps rambling about Lady.

Then it's just the two of us. And the Gale I have always known finally resurfaces, along with the scowling and the usual frown under his shaggy bangs.

I wouldn't say that he makes me nervous, because he doesn't. But there's something in those cold steely pupils that elicits a pretty odd reaction from me. I could compare it to the thrill felt by a young actor during his very first appearance on stage. Accelerating heartbeat, sweating palms…the increasing urge to run away. Yet, there is a weird excitement in standing here and being watched. Being observed.

I can't really explain how I feel towards him. I should hate him, as self-defense, but I don't. What I feel for him is something more like… respect. Tainted with a lot of hostility but, yes, respect, for he has been honest, and has clearly shown what he truly thinks of me. In a way, I like that more than the fake smiles I receive every day.

"Pretty dress." The words sound familiar, though the sarcastic tone is missing this time.

I might believe him if I didn't know what my dress must look like right now. But I decide to play along.

"Thanks." And putting on my best courteous smile, I inquire, "How's your nose?"

Nailed it! His jaw twitches. He's seemingly restraining himself from tearing my head off. But as odd as it can be, and as much as I want it to be, my question is not completely mocking.

"Better." The absence of any swelling, or other sign of damage, affirms it.

"I'm glad." I genuinely am. Despite all my efforts to invocate the wickedest sides of myself, nothing has been able to dissipate the guilt I felt last night. I think it comes from the sixteen years I've spent watching Father working, giving his body and soul, for people who keep on criticizing him anyway.

"Shouldn't you be home by now? I mean, the Opening Ceremony is about to start."

Translation_? Get the hell out of here. _

_You won't get rid of me so soon, Hawthorne_. "I was actually planning to go with Prim."

"Prim will be standing with _us_," he articulates slowly.

"Then make more room for me," I jest semi-innocently. "You know what they say: the more, the merrier."

But my little joke doesn't earn me any smirks or snickers, like I thought. Instead, a fierce light flashes in his eyes, turning his grey stare to ice. Apparently, that was the wrong choice of words. "What is it to you? A game? An occasion to have _fun_?" he barks, taking a few steps forward. "You think standing up and waiting for Katniss to make a fool of herself in front of whole Panem will be _fun_?"

He spits out each word with so much vehemence I'm surprised my face didn't catch any postilion.

I rolled my eyes in spite of myself. Why does he have to take everything at face value?

"I didn't mean it like that, Gale. I know how important today is. I'm not stupid."

"Sure you aren't. Then you can understand how important it'll be for Prim to stay with her _family."_

By his intonation and the way his eyes scrutinize me from head to toe, I'm clearly not part of the equation.

I try not to take offense, but my hands are already balling into fists at my sides.

"This is important for me too!" And just to show him my determination to stay, I take a firm step closer without breaking our staring competition. "In case you forgot, Katniss is my friend too."

I realize our proximity when his warm breath sweeps across my face as he exhales a short laugh. "Yeah, right."

The way his eyes glow in the sunset-violet scene makes me think about yesterday night. Except the look in them is totally different.

I'm a little disappointed. I thought that having a real conversation with him for the first time would have changed something between us. I thought the hopeful glimpse that lighted his eyes at my words meant that he would see me differently now.

I wonder where the boy from yesterday has gone. I wonder if he'll ever come back. Maybe if I dig a little bit into his layers, I might be able to free him. I might be able to let him see that we both want the same thing: having Katniss back.

"Gale," I start hesitantly, "w-why can't we just stop this …_fighting_ and try to be—"

_Friends_ is a gap too wide to be crossed, by any of us.

"Friendly?" I offer after few seconds of reflection.

His laugh pierces the sweet calm of the late afternoon.

"_Friendly_?" The word doesn't seem to have the same meaning from his mouth. It feels like a verbal assault to his ego. "How can I be _friendly_ with someone who'll never _ever_ have to struggle with anything in her beautiful and simple damn life?"

Simple? _Beautiful_? Like hearing Mother crying for her mind-shrinking drugs every night and morning? Or not remembering the last meal I took with actual human beings?

"You don't know anything about me." My tone is threatening, warning him not to go any further. But he's oblivious. Or not caring.

"Well, I don't have to. A simple glance at you is merely enough. I wonder if you've ever had to sweat even once in your entire life…"

"Okay, what is your point? That I'm the Mayor's daughter?" I retort. "Thank you for your _honorable_ pertinence but I'm fully aware of that."

"It's just a shame that someone who's never lifted a finger gets everything served on a silver platter while others are laboring to—"

"So WHAT?" I shoot at him, exasperated.

He stops frowning for a moment. He seems surprised at my outburst. This is the highest pitch my voice has ever reached. But can't he see how redundant this conversation is?

Nothing of this—who I am, who he is—is _my_ fault. I didn't _choose_ to live in a gigantic, horribly empty mansion or sitting in front a large delicious Carmen-made meal _alone_ every day.

"What do you want me to do, then?" I feel my face reddening a little more at each spoken word. "You want me to go hunt with you? You want me to work in the mines? You want me to take Katniss' place in the Games or y—"

"That could help indeed," he cuts across me, wearing his bored-looking expression again. "What would your absence change anyway?"

My last words die somewhere in the throat, like if someone had pierced it with a smoldering blade. My heart beats painfully fast. It seems to be the only thing I can hear.

I look at him, completely, horrifyingly dumbstruck and speechless. I feel like he managed to sneak into my thoughts and pull out what could hurt me the most. What else can explain his words? Does he really hate me _that_ much?

I open my mouth, and try my best to form a proper response, but I find myself fighting back tears instead.

I've always thought that the Hunger Games were one of the few things Town and Seam people, actually every district, shared as a common burden. Something that brought us back to the same level, in a way. I've never thought someone could bluntly wish that onto another person. Well apparently, I was wrong. Or those rules just don't apply to me.

He's waiting for my reply. Except I don't have any. My brain feels frozen, but pounding at the same time, like if words were banging to get out of it.

"I mean, it's not like you bring something substantial to anyone." And he says this like a sort of justification. Like an excuse.

I'm pretty sure the moment I blink will be the moment my tears will start running down my cheeks. I have to get out of here.

"You," I almost cringe to how creaky my voice sounds. Each syllable seems to push the burning blade a little deeper into my chest. "You almost sound like a Capitol citizen," I manage to articulate. I tear my eyes away from his gaze and instead stare far ahead into the distance. "Just missing the accent." It's not an insult or an offense. Just an ugly observation.

And I walk out, feeling his stare on my back.

On the way back home, I dig my nails hard in my arm to distract myself. I will not cry for Gale Hawthorne. _I will not cry for him,_ I repeat over and over as the water pooling at my eyes blurs my vision. I will not cry for Gale Hawthorne.

Maybe tears could dissolve the smothering pressure on my chest, but I won't let them fall. Because that would prove him right. And he's not right. He's not…, is he?

And that's when I think about the empty space around me at school. At home. Everywhere.

Is my existence so insignificant? The thought makes my head spin, like I'm walking upside down.

I realize that I'm home when I hear Carmen's voice calling me.

"Miss Madge," her deep voice gasps. "What happened to your dress?"

I look up to her, but her dull eyes stay glued to my dirty body. On my stupid dress.

What about me? What about my swollen eyes and broken stare? Am I _that_ invisible? Can't she see that all I want now is someone to prove him wrong? Someone simply to say, "I'm glad you're alive, Madge." Or it is too much to ask?

"Where have you been?" she asks, dusting the stains off my flounces.

I abruptly swat her chubby hand away.

"Miss Madge?" She blinks and finally looks up at me, squinting at my face. "Is something wrong?"

Yes. Something's wrong. _Everything's_ wrong. I shake my head. "Who cares anyway?"

* * *

_**A.N.: Maybe that was too harsh, even coming from Gale. But I think this is something **__**he could have said out of anger or fear or something. I hope I didn't make him a monster! It was not my intentions.**_

_**Okayyyy… so that was my Madge meeting the Hawthorne family. I thought it would be really difficult to write in her perspective as we got SO little of her in the books. But I actually enjoyed it. So tell me, should I write more in her POVs?**_

_**And thank you so much for the reviews and the following/favoritings. They just made me want to write more. Now I'll just try to do it a lot faster.**_

_**How did you like it?**_


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